


The Bird And The Snake

by fire_ash_rebirth



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Biting, Body Horror, Cannibalism, Crowley is a Giant Snake, Crowley's Fall (Good Omens), Dark, Dark Crowley, Gen, Giant Snake, Is it Sharing a Body if you eat someone but they don't die?, Metaphysics, No Betas We Fall Like Crowley, Predator/Prey, Sharing a Body, Shedding, Snake Crowley (Good Omens), Sort Of, Vore, Weird Biology, Weirdness, is this vore, probably, shedding skin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-31
Updated: 2019-07-31
Packaged: 2020-07-27 15:23:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20048254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fire_ash_rebirth/pseuds/fire_ash_rebirth
Summary: Crowley is stuck in giant snake form, can't see anything due to shedding skin, and mistakes Aziraphale for food. Hijinks of the amusing and not quite as amusing ensue.OrCrowley eats Aziraphale whole, and decides that he rather likes consuming the angel's power.





	The Bird And The Snake

**Author's Note:**

> So I've been reading quite a bit of works with Snake!Crowley, and I love it. Then I was feeding my boa the other day when she was mid-shed and wondered what would happen if Snake!Crowley couln't see anything, mistook Aziraphale for food, and ate him. This is the result. It's kind of weird, and don't read if you like them having happy endings, if you don't like snakes, or you don't like snake demons eating angels. They don't die, but... well, read and find out.

One would think it would be difficult to forget that Crowley was a serpent, the Original Serpent. One would think that the bright yellow eyes, tendency to hiss, and method of walking that looked more like slithering would be constant reminders to his true nature. That might very well be the case, but there were still times Aziraphale was caught off guard. Let us take for example, one afternoon some time after the Apocalypse that Wasn’t:

It was a chilly spring day, and Crowley was having Quite A Day. As a serpent, thermoregulation was difficult in general, but this was normally easily remedied with a cozy spot in front of the fire or draping over a certain warm angel. Due to a series of Complicating Factors, however, these solutions were not attainable. The angel in question had disappeared into his study three days prior with twelfth century French poetry and had not emerged since, and there was no fire to be cozy in front of. Again, this would not normally be a problem as a demon such as Crowley should have no problem at all starting a fire. This brings us to the next of the Complicating Factors: Crowley was in shed.

All snakes shed, typically two to four times per year, and Crowley was not an exception to this rule. And while in shed, Crowley was functionally stuck in serpent form meaning that starting fires was considerably more difficult. Additionally, while in shed his eyesight (which wasn’t amazing to begin with) was obscured by the cloudy scales over his eyes. With few other options, Crowley was curled up on the couch in the form of a massive serpent, unable to see and considerably hungry.

Once again, this can be traced back to his serpentine nature; snakes do not eat often, but when they do they eat a lot. On this particular day, the weather, shedding, and hunger resulted in one giant snake who was cold, hungry, blind, and grumpy. Naturally, things only went downhill from there when Aziraphale finally exited his study.

The angel had quite lost track of time and was, as a result, completely unaware of Crowley’s situation. Aziraphale was milling around and humming contently to himself as he straightened the stacks of books that threatened to fall over (Crowley’s wile) without ever following through on it (Aziraphale’s thwart), and so did not notice Crowley on the couch. 

Crowley, on the other hand, very much noticed Aziraphale. Not so much as noticing that his angel companion had returned, but noticing that a large, warm, slow-moving, and (most importantly) food-smelling object was nearby and oblivious to his presence. It should be noted that in his present state, with all it’s Complicating Factors, Crowley did not put two and two together to conclude that this object was in fact his friend Aziraphale, and instead tracked it with all the single-minded determination of a grumpy, blind snake on the hunt that regarded all the available information and came to the conclusion: food. The angel walked around the couch to remove a mostly empty mug from the table, and in doing so put himself well within Crowley’s striking range.

There was a whisper of scales, a minute shift of weight on the couch cushion, and that was all the warning Aziraphale got before there was a giant, heavy, surprisingly strong rope coiled around his neck and torso. If he had been given a moment longer, he might have exclaimed “What are you doing, my dear?!” or moved out of range, but as it stands we will never know for those moments were not given. Instead, one shocked angel opened his mouth in an attempted protest. All this did was release air from his lungs that the quickly constricting serpent would not permit him to regain.

Aziraphale’s hands grabbed weakly at the coils around his neck, his chest, his lungs as he found himself quite unable to breathe. Soon, black spots danced in his vision and his heartbeat pounded slow and loud in his head. If he had been less surprised, he might have thought to miracle himself out of the situation entirely, but everything had happened so quickly and Crowley’s background demonic energy negated the automatic self-preservation instincts of Aziraphale’s background angelic energy. So Aziraphale did not remove himself from the situation and instead quietly panicked as the life was squeezed out of him. Something shifted, something gave, and Aziraphale prepared for discorporation. After a moment, he checked his body’s functions- no heartbeat or brain activity, ribs crushed and stabbing into the squishy internal organs- it was very dead. So why did he not discororate?

The last time he had been discorporated (and all the times before that), he was transported up to Heaven so he could be issued a replacement and return to earth. But with regard to the events shortly after the Notpocalypse, they were on their own side now, and Aziraphale had not really given thought to what that would mean for discorporation. He tried to blink his eyes or twitch his fingers, with no bodily response. He tried to expel himself from his body to float in the middle of the room, but that did not happen either. Well. That was not good. 

Watching snakes eat is something truly remarkable to behold; the right and left sides of their jaws are not fused together and, when eating, can be moved independently of each other to surround prey much larger than the snake’s head. They sort of “walk” their jaw along the prey, slowly but surely pushing their meal further down their throat as their noodly body shifts and stretches to accommodate. It was fascinating, a truly admirable design on the part of whichever angel was in charge of creating snakes, and Aziraphale might have appreciated it a bit more if he was not stuck in his (dead) corporation as his demonic counterpart swallowed him whole. 

The experience was… odd, to say the least. Had his body been functional, he might have felt the sharp prick of teeth puncturing his skin or the wetness of the inside of the gullet he slid down, but without working nerve endings or even eyes all Aziraphale perceived was the peculiar and vaguely unpleasant sensation of being compressed and slowly enveloped in demonic energy. It was dark, it was cramped, and Aziraphale couldn’t leave or miracle himself out of it while he was still tied to his body. As it was getting to be a bit of a habit upon the realization of inconvenient discorporation, he whispered to himself softly but with feeling,  _ Fuck _ .

\-----

Crowley woke up slowly, feeling much better than when he had fallen asleep. His shed had been discarded in a pile, he could see, the weather had warmed a few degrees, and he no longer felt the gnawing of hunger deep in his belly. That was a bit odd, as he didn’t remember eating anything, but sometimes a good nap helps the body get itself sorted out; he was a demon after all, and didn’t technically need food. He stretched himself out to his full length, feeling quite content, and went to shift back to a more bipedal form when he noticed something odd.

There was a considerable lump midway down his form, as if he had eaten something large about a day ago. Crowley racked his memory, but the last thing he remembered was being cold, hungry, and uncomfortable. He scented the air, tasting for clues as to what he might have eaten, but the room was the same as ever; the lingering fear of customers chased out of the shop, his own combination of sulfur and snake, and the warm pastry and cocoa smell/taste that was distinctly Aziraphale. 

_ Where was that angel? _ Crowley wondered, extending his awareness to cover the shop. The sharp buzzing of divine Presence clashing with his own infernal aura told him that the angel was still in the general area, but he could not sense the steady heartbeat and slow breathing of his form. This was strange, that much he was sure, but not entirely  _ bad _ \- the angel’s Presence was still very much there, so he hadn’t been abducted by either Heaven or Hell. The Serpent That Was Crowley considered his options; he could attempt to shift back to human form and search the shop and apartment, but he had some concerns about trying to fit the mysterious and rather large meal that currently resided inside him into his significantly smaller humanoid digestive tract. In his current snaky form he was roughly anaconda sized- six meters long snout to tail- so the lump was satisfying-meal sized. In human form, it would be only slightly smaller than his entire body.

So keeping the serpent form, Crowley began his search of the property, slithering through each room, peering unblinking around as if he might spot the angel hiding in a corner with a book. There was nothing. No recently abandoned mugs or reading angels on the shop floor, so Crowley headed up. It was beyond awkward traveling up the stairs to Aziraphale’s rarely used bedroom when he was 1) a snake trying to slither up stairs not designed for slithering and 2) lugging with him a large, heavy meal-lump the size of a deer. Or a person. 

Crowley froze with most of him (including his partially digested meal) on the tenth step, the tip of his tail on the sixth step, and his head on the twelfth. He hadn’t stopped to consider exactly what his meal was, only that he didn’t remember acquiring it. He had been so focused on the shop around him that he hadn’t asked some very basic questions about what was going inside his own body. Slowly, carefully, tentatively, Crowley redirected his senses inwards, down the length of his spine, down past the strange buzz in his throat, down to the mysterious lump. After a day or so, it was partially digested to the point where there were no easily identifiable external markers to be found in the mass of digestive juices, crushed bones, and mushified flesh so Crowley extended his senses a bit more to give the lump a metaphysical poke.

It poked back.

_ Well shit _ .

The Infernal Being That Was Crowley In The Form Of A Giant Snake ignored the part of himself that had started to freak out a bit (quite a bit, in fact) to narrow his metaphysical eyes at The Divine Being That Was Aziraphael In The Form Of A Partially Digested Lump .  _ What are you doing here? _ Crowley not so much thought as felt at the angel he had not noticed until now on account of his divine Presence being all squished together with his mangled corporation, surrounded by demonic Presence that just so happened to also be eating him.

_ Well, my dear, _ the angel sent back, _ you ate me _ .

Spiritual communication does not translate perfectly into written or spoken words, on account of it being the exchange of images, feelings, and vague ideas, but the closest approximate translation of Crowley's response would be a keysmash.

Aziraphale (the essence, not the body) sighed with a flutter of metaphysical wings that passed through the bone and muscle of Crowley’s physical form,  _ Well you did _ . If the angel had a body right now, Crowley was sure he would be pouting at him.

_ But why didn’t you, _ the demon sputtered and shifted position, his attention drawn sharply to the outside physical world as the section of his coils that contained The Lump That Is Aziraphale started falling from its precarious perch halfway up the stars, dragging the rest of Crowley with it until he landed at the bottom of the stairs in a loose pile of tangled nope rope and slightly more squished Aziraphale

_ Ow? _ Aziraphale offered, but was cut off by the simultaneous physical constriction of Crowley's midsection around his crushed corporation and the increased pressure of infernal Presence tightening around his being until the angel was a small concentrated mass of divine Presence slightly out of plane with the mess of partially digested bones and organs that was currently being ground into even smaller pieces by the serpent’s digestive tract.

_ Why didn’t you discorporate? Or just miracle yourself out? _ Crowley demanded, rearranging himself until he no longer resembled a pretzel.

The angel’s energy pulsed like a spiritual huff of frustration,  _ I don’t know, it seems like I’m tied to my corporation this time, and I tried miracling myself out, but I can’t do miracles completely surrounded by your demonic energy! _

_ So if I just left you there, _ Crowley’s spiritual voice carried with it a streak of demonic wiles,  _ you would be stuck? Completely helpless as I consume you? _

Aziraphale would have frowned if he had a face,  _ Well, I suppose so. But that would be very rude, and you’d only be affecting my corporation. The rest of me can’t be consumed by- _ He stopped as his Presence was suddenly  _ pulled _ , Crowley’s demonic Presence surrounding him reaching out and snatching a bit of his energy.  _ What? How did you- You can’t- No, wait! _

Crowley listened to the angel’s protests with a serpentine smile of demonic mirth. _ Can’t I? I could just keep you here _ , he constricted his midsection, causing Aziraphale’s corporation to break a little bit more,  _ and feed off you for a good while _ . He pulled off a little more of the angel’s Presence, feeling the divinity settle into the cavity of his being that had been empty and aching since his Fall. He could feel Aziraphale start to spin and pulse against his sides, but Crowley knew that there was nothing he could do so completely encapsulated by his form and energy.

He continued pushing thoughts at the angel as he poked at his Presence, pinching little pieces off and drawing them into himself.  _ You’d be quite the satisfying meal, angel. I’m not sure I want to let you go. _

_ Crowley! _ Aziraphale was decidedly Not Amused.  _ Stop this right now! _ Notes of panic had begun to creep into his words.

_ Hmm. _ The demon grabbed another piece of the angel, this one quite a bit larger than the others, scaling up from the equivalent of a teasing nibble to a solid chomp, tucking the divinity into the cavity and humming as it burned pleasantly. _ I don’t think I will. _ In truth, he had intended to let Aziraphale go with just a little teasing, but that was before he realized how truly wonderful it felt to fill up his belly and aching demonic cavity with the angel’s Presence.

Aziraphale shuddered as he lost bits and pieces of himself to the demonic Presence all around him. He wasn’t sure where his energy was going or how it would affect him when (if) he got out or what would happen if Crowley took all of him. Calling up his most commanding front, the one he was supposed to use in the Garden (but didn’t), Aziraphale pushed himself out against Crowley’s sides, against the cocoon of infernal energy even as it crackled and sizzled where they met.  _ Let me go! Stop this and help me get out! _

Aziraphale felt Crowley stop leeching his brightness and he pulsed his remaining divinity in what he hoped was a show of strength. But just as he felt a surge of hope when the pulling stopped, he felt a stab of panic (no, it was fear now) as the serpent, the darkness all around him rumbled with demonic laughter streaked through with the buzz of power that comes from demons feeding off of angels. _ But angel, _ the darkness grinned, hungry, _ why would I do that? _

All of a sudden  _ something _ was coming out of the darkness towards him and Aziraphale stopped pulsing out to pull himself into himself, trying to hide himself away from the approaching  _ thing _ . There was, of course, nowhere to go, and despite his efforts, the thing coming at him was suddenly going  _ through _ him and oh that felt  _ weird _ . The darkness rumbled again, but this time it came from all around and inside his own Presence. The tendril of darkness twisted and gained shape and then there was the whisper of scales against feathers and the darkness, Crowley, was winding through Aziraphale’s wings.

Crowley was enjoying himself so much more than he had thought, and felt the angel’s Presence freeze when he wrapped a bit of himself around Aziraphale’s wigs. It was an odd experience, at once a giant snake digesting the body of a full grown man while also being a mass of demonic energy surrounding a little blip of angel while also being a serpent slithering through that angel’s feathers. But despite the strangeness, he was warm and full and a little giddy from the rush of divine power and not entirely thinking straight but that bit didn’t really matter. He’d let the angel go eventually, he told himself.  _ Probably. _

Aziraphale wasn’t sure when his Presence had taken shape enough to have wings, but there was now a serpent, a demon, Crowley, slithering through them. He tracked the snake’s movements, hyper-aware of how vulnerable of a position he was in right now, and tried to keep his fear from showing. The extension of Crowley that was in Aziraphale’s wings had circled around both wings completely, and when his body constricted a little bit Aziraphale was unable to suppress the instinctive fear that shot through his entire being. The little snake stilled, and Aziraphale got the impression that something, something not very good was about to happen. And there was nothing he could do about it.

When the angel tensed, energy swirling with fear and anticipation under Crowley’s coils, the demon was suddenly awash in the feeling, reveling in the control he had over this little feathery blip. If Crowley had been thinking clearly, he would be properly disgusted with himself for hurting his friend so. Crowley was not thinking clearly, however, and with the stolen divinity burning in his being, the angel under his scales, his demonic nature was driving him forwards to take and take and take and take and revel in the power it gave him. So his imagination, so much more active than any demon and probably any angel, supplied infinite options for what he could do next. He chose the one that sounded the most fun, the one that most appealed to his form. 

The serpent wound even more tightly around Aziraphale’s wings and stretched his head forward, nosing down the ridge of the wing bones, flicking his tongue out to taste the feathers until he found the perfect spot. He stilled, coiled tight as a spring, and struck into the angel’s Presence with sharp teeth. 

While Aziraphale may not have been able to feel Crowley’s fangs on his skin when his body was first being eaten, he definitely felt the sharp stabbing pain in what would have been his back as the serpent bit down on the tip of his wing and tore away a mouthful of metaphysical feathers. If he had vocal chords, he might have cried out, but he did not, so he wound his Presence tighter to himself and tried to ignore how much smaller, how less he felt. The serpent in his wings swallowed the feathers, and the darkness around them hummed with the taste of divine Presence. 

Out of the darkness more serpents came forth, striking from all sides, taking increasingly large chunks of divinity out of the angel’s presence until there was hardly any left. Small and bright as a spark, he wavered in the all-encompassing darkness.  _ Crowley!  _ He called out one  _ last time, Crowley, please help me! _ But his cries went unheard by the darkness that ignored all else as it rushed to snuff out the final spark and consume the last of the angel’s power. And then the light was no more.

The darkness swirled lazily, humming with satisfaction as the diving Presence in his belly was transferred completely to the cavity within himself that had no shape. It was not the same as it was, when he was full of God’s Presence and Her love, but it was warm and burned just enough to be good, like chili powder in cocoa. The light came together in a pool as if seeking what once what whole, spilling out of itself to fill the cavity. What could be done with the darkness and the light together would be found out eventually, and would be shown to be something beyond what even Crowley could have imagined. 

In the morning, or perhaps in a week, or perhaps a year, or a decade, The Being of Darkness and Light would rise. But for now he was content to curl around the lump in his belly as the body that once belonged to an angel was digested and energy crackled along his scales. The Being that used to be the Demon Crowley and the Angel Aziraphale and was now something new settled in coils of scales and shadow containing a pool of light that had become a spring, and slept. 


End file.
